The Adventures of Miss Petitfour by Anne Michaels

Author:Anne Michaels [Michaels, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-77049-502-9
Publisher: Tundra
Published: 2015-11-03T05:00:00+00:00

Oh, how the cats loved the ticklish feel of the snowflakes on their fur!

Some words wait to ambush a story right in the middle; they hide until just the right moment, then leap out of nowhere and scare the story into an entirely different direction. Words like TIDAL WAVE, HURRICANE, VOLCANO and EARTHQUAKE. Then there are other words that save the day, words like FORTUNATELY, THANK GOODNESS and WHATEVER WOULD WE HAVE DONE IF YOU HADN’T REMEMBERED TO BRING THE GLUE. But, FORTUNATELY, there are no natural disasters in this story, and so we can simply continue on. (And yes, in case you are counting them, this is a digression.)

The Penny Black soared over the houses and fields on its way to town, Miss Petitfour and her cats in close pursuit. The stamp twirled and drifted, ascended and descended, danced and whirled in the snowy gusts. Several times, Miss Petitfour reached out her hand and almost caught it, only to have a fresh gust push the stamp just out of reach.

By this time, the cat-rope was swinging over Mr. Patel’s Bakery. Just as they were passing over, the stamp shuddered and hovered and then, ever so slowly, so slow it almost seemed to be standing still, the stamp touched down lightly on the corner of the chimney. Miss Petitfour expertly adjusted her tablecloth, and she, along with Minky, Misty, Taffy, Purrsia, Pirate, Mustard, Moutarde, Hemdela, Earring, Grigorovitch, Clasby, Captain Captain, Captain Catkin, Captain Clothespin, Your Shyness and Sizzles, began to descend toward the roof. The moment they landed, in a rather—I’m afraid it must be said—clumsy cat-heap, the corner of the stamp lifted and again the Penny Black floated off. In an instant, Miss Petitfour let out the cloth and once more they took to the breeze, following in mad pursuit and never quite catching up. They raced in circles across the sky like the long black hand of a clock gone berserk. Then, suddenly, the Penny Black halted in midair, wavered, and lilted, and slowly and finally came to rest at the very tip-top of Mr. Clemmo’s flagpole, a shiny silver knob that glinted in the late-afternoon, sparkling, snow-filled light.

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